


Inked

by curiumKingyo, pickleplum



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Athene Noctua Verse, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiumKingyo/pseuds/curiumKingyo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickleplum/pseuds/pickleplum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Some modern artists do meaningless tribal art for tourists, but a traditional artist will create something unique to each client inspired on their life story. It is a fine art and, if done correctly, a Maori artist can learn all about you only looking at your tattoos."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Linework

Newt finds himself idly playing with Hermann’s hand one day as they rest on their favorite stretch of beach. Hermann sits with the tablet on his lap and his wings raised slightly to shade the screen, the way a heron uses its wings to reduce glare while it fishes.

His fingers trail across the narrow scar on his partner’s wrist, the sight of which never fails to start an ache in his chest.

Newt runs his fingers along the raised white line again and Hermann responds with a displeased noise without looking up from his expanded environmental model of the Bay.

"You should get tattoos to cover these," Newt blurts out.

Hermann raises the wing nearest Newt to gaze at the man. "Why would I do that?" he asks.

"Umm … because it would look badass?"

Hermann scowls.

"Okay, that reason works for me and not you. I get it. How about in celebration you were right that the Jaegers would save the world? How about to symbolize your father can’t ruin your life anymore? To raise yourself to my level of awesome?"

"I’ll take all of those suggestions into consideration. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do." He drops his wing back into its previous position, shutting off Newt’s view of his face.

Newt covers a disappointed sigh with a mouthful of lemonade from the bottle he keeps handy when out in the sun.

 _Maybe if I show him a design he’ll reconsider_.

 _But it has to be absolutely_ , _completely_ , _totally_ perfect.

He picks up his notepad and felt-tipped pen and begins doodling. Planning the next generation of phytoplankton can wait a little while. Hermann’s just as important to him and he doesn’t need that much sleep anyway.

~~~

Newt fights with his ideas and swears at his hand and pen for their inability to capture what he visualizes for three months before he’s confident enough in the idea to pitch it to Hermann.

It’s _perfect_.

He’ll _beg_ if necessary to convince the man it’s perfect.

Newt screws up his courage and pushes the notepad into Hermann’s hands.


	2. Ink

Hermann can’t quite believe he allowed Newt to convince him to do this.

As he watches the artist carefully choosing the colors he wonders if this is some Drift-bleed thing, if some of Newt’s self-absorbed urge to be unique had rubbed off on him. Deep down he is fully aware that no, this isn’t about Newt.

This is entirely about him. He looks at his outstretched arm, the outline already marked on his skin, covering the long scar there. Newt put in a lot of work planning the tattoos for him: the artist had only to take his rough sketches and turn them into something practical and clean, but the whole concept sprouted from Newt’s imagination.

Hermann loves it. He loves all the symbolism, loves the attention Newt put into the design, and wished more than once he could see the colors Newt picked with such care.

When the artist is set she takes his arm and smiles at him, turning the machine on. The buzzing sound fills the air as well as Hermann’s lungs and he feels the vibrations echo in his hollow bones. Newt pets his other hand reassuringly.

The needle touches his skin and for a split second he falls back into the dark night the scar was born. He waits for the blood to trickle down his pale flesh and soak the paper towels covering the small table, but nothing of the sort happens. The first line begins forming, pitch black against the pale grey background of his skin.

He lets out a shaky breath and the artist looks up at him concerned. He dismisses her worries with a nod. Newt smiles fondly at him and rubs the small of his back comfortingly.

The artist goes back to work, the lineart blooming to life with every burning prick of the needle against his thin skin.

By the end of the session _Gipsy Danger_ ’s slim form is etched forever into his forearm with her chain sword extended and slowly fragmenting into a long line of her coding, twisted into a double helix.

There are no colors yet but it is already almost impossible to discern the once too-apparent scar underneath. He smiles at it as the artist applies balm and wraps his arm with plastic film.

He touches the still burning flesh tenderly and smiles at Newt, eyes suddenly wet.

"You wanted me to be the first person to see yours, I want you to be the first one to see mine," he says, showing the red and puffy tattoo proudly.


	3. Colors

_Gipsy Danger_ ’s outline has filled with colors: ‘Nile blue’ for her armor, ‘amber’ for her visor, ‘vermilion’ for her nuclear heart. She looks ready for battle, forever protecting Hermann.

 _That’s sappy of me_ , Newt thinks with a tiny smile. _But there’s something about thinking of Hermann which seems to inspire extreme sappiness_. _Which is really strange because we’re generally two of the least sappy people anyone will ever meet_.

"She’s really good, isn’t she?" Newt asks as he rubs ointment onto the nearly healed Jaeger on Hermann’s right arm.

Hermann hums in agreement, half-asleep under Newt’s gentle touch.

"It’s funny that one of the first artists to come back to the city is a tattooist," Newt continues. Wings waving lazily in a gesture equivalent to a shrug Hermann says, "It is perfectly reasonable an artist and Auckland native like Miss Henare would be among the initial returnees given the importance of tattoos in Maori culture." He leans closer to Newt as the shorter man finishes caring for his arm and his fingers move to knead the muscles of Hermann’s shoulder.

"Yeah," Newt responds with a small laugh, "it makes sense. I guess I didn’t expect her to be _this_ good. This is _gorgeous_ ink, dude."

Hermann concurs with a sleepy nod.

"You ready for the other one?" Newt asks and he’s unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. This second design puffs out his chest with pride and he believes down to his toes it will be stunning on the canvas of Hermann’s skin. Hermann responds with less enthusiasm, offering a grunt which strikes Newt as disappointingly noncommittal.

"We’ll finally match," Newt wheedles. "Well, not quite _match_. It’s not the same style and I don’t have her anywhere. So, it’s more like we’ll be complementary."

"In yet another way," Hermann mumbles. He lets his head fall back when Newt’s hands move to massage the back of his neck.

Newt's hands still and he breaks into an enormous, goofy grin.

Hermann opens his eyes and smiles in return, then wraps a wing around Newt’s shoulder and gently pulls him closer with it. When he has Newt pressed tightly against his side, Hermann leans over and kisses him at the corner of his mouth.

Warmth pools in Newt’s belly while he realizes Hermann’s actions are an invitation.

"Oh," he breathes and Hermann replies with a shy smile, a charming blush, and averted eyes.

Newt smiles encouragingly and guides Hermann’s lips to his with a tender hand on the nape of the winged man’s neck.


	4. Story

Hermann is actually eager to have the second tattoo done. Of course he’s still hesitant about a Kaiju tattoo, especially after all he’s seen Newt go through, but perhaps this is one of the main reasons he wants it: to feel like Newt does.

He appreciates all the other man does for him, after the Drift but even before that. For years he’s been a fixed, if chaotic, point in Hermann’s life when everything else seemed to crumble. When confronted with the ugly truth of Hermann’s nature Newt didn’t back away. Quite the contrary, he dove in head first. He accepted Hermann and did his best to understand him—all his quirks and habits.

It is only fair that Hermann do the same for him.

Another reason he wants this is the pride he felt when Gipsy’s colors finally healed. He can’t see them, but the myriad of greys look so beautiful, completely covering the scar and bringing meaning to his arms, reminders he helped build the Jaegers and his hands and arms helped save mankind.

To have a Kaiju on the other arm would be … poetic? He can’t quite decide what to call it, but it has a nice symmetry to it: the last Kaiju and the collapsing Breach across from the last Jaeger and the basic coding that enabled mankind’s triumph.

 _Nobody’s getting your Wall tattooed_ … he thinks bitterly as he tightens his binder and gets ready to meet Newt at Miss Henare’s studio to have the second tattoo done.

This time Newt is even more excited than before and Hermann notices he is a bit disappointed when Miss Henare doesn’t seem disgruntled by the design, just presses the template to Hermann’s arm quietly.

She chooses the inks and begins work in contemplative silence. Slattern’s powerful silhouette is halfway done when she smiles and looks up at him. "Did you know that traditional Maori tattoos tell the life story of those who wear them?" she asks.

"I knew they are an important part of Maori culture," Hermann says as Newt flips through an old magazine, arm resting against Hermann’s, "but I wasn’t aware of this particular aspect."

"Yes, the tattoos are not randomly chosen," she says, cleaning the tip of the needle and dipping it into a charcoal grey ink. "Some modern artists do meaningless tribal art for tourists, but a traditional artist will create something unique to each client inspired on their life story. It is a fine art and, if done correctly, a Maori artist can learn all about you only looking at your tattoos." She stops once again and smiles at him, her tattooed lips curling amiably.

"And do my tattoos say anything to you?" he asks, wings trembling under the binding. She takes his healed arm and runs a finger up the hidden scar. "This tells me you went through something devastating, sad, and ugly like no human being should be put through. And it was before the Kaiju. This scar is much older, I can tell." Newt goes stiff by his side and Hermann licks his lips nervously. "But this … ," she points the tattoo itself, "tells me you have overcome it. Overcoming is not forgetting nor hiding, it is taking the bad things that happened to you and allowing them to shape you into something better." Her smile is kind and meaningful, her hands warm even with the rubber glove between their skin. "If you have evolved out of your problems and are confident enough to put this over them, then you have definitely grown into someone much stronger … I wasn’t aware of who you were when Doctor Geiszler first came to my studio, but I got curious and researched and was amazed by what the two of you did. I don’t know what changed inside you, Doctor Gottlieb, but I’m proud to be the person to make this change visible on the outside."

Hermann feels like crying but Newt holds him sweetly, as tightly as he can without hurting his wings.

Henare smiles at the two of them and goes back to work, carefully carving the last Kaiju on the arm that helped bring them down.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure which of us came up with the idea of giving Hermann tattoos to cover up the scars on his wrists, but we agreed it would be something he would do eventually. 
> 
> We wrote alternating chapters and I bet you can guess which is whose. (Hint: cK's are the _awesome_ ones.)


End file.
